Time Won't Stand Still
by tahwekilelohcin
Summary: Drabblish angst. HarryHermione. Maybe it's because something like this won't last. Maybe I need to count the days for future reference on how to deal with things like these.
1. Bad Feeling About This

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, but I sure wish I did. He's got pretty eyes.

* * *

I lay on the bed in the small room that I'm calling my own for the summer, I know it's well past midnight, but I can't sleep. It's far too hot in this place; I'd perform a cooling charm, but that would only lead the Ministry to us.

They told us not to go on this journey. Told us we'd be exiled from the Wizarding Society -- as if we weren't to begin with. Well, I take that back. Harry wasn't.

And he's not exactly adjusting well to the knowledge that he's essentially on his own -- that the community that once doted on him (even though it annoyed him) has a warrant out on his head now.

But that isn't to say he was out-casted because of his desire to track down Voldemort and finish him off, once and for all. It has to do with Draco Malfoy's sudden disappearance. And the subsequent threats and bribes the ministry received from Narcissa Malfoy, instructing them to bring his captor/murder to justice.

There's no proof Harry did it though. And I, for one, believe that he didn't do it.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, too exhausted to even sleep. I stare at the wall I'm facing. I count the cracks in the ancient plaster.

I've reached 53 when I hear my bedroom door creak open the tiniest bit.

I freeze, eyes wide open and my ears waiting for the next noise to come.

A whisper, "Hermione?"

Relieved, I exhale the breath I've been holding.

I roll over to my back, craning my neck to the door, replying in a hushed tone, "Harry."

He doesn't seem all that surprised to find me awake.

I guess any sort of surprise should've worn off sometime during the first two weeks. And it's been almost four now -- I don't know why I count the days, but I do.

Maybe it's because something like this won't last. Maybe I need to count the days for future reference on how to deal with things like these.

Like something like this happens to a girl more than once in a lifetime.

Maybe once in a lifetime is even too much. Especially when there are so many people we could end up hurting in the end.

He moves almost ethereally towards my bed, moving to lay down next to me on top of the sheets. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and I see he's staring at the ceiling. If he asks, I could tell him there are one hundred and eighty eight cracks above my bed alone. And while I lose myself in the numbers, his hand finds mine, enclosing it tightly.

I move my eyes back to the wall, resuming my counting.

_54_. I won't cry. I won't.

_55_. There's no point. And why do something if it won't accomplish anything productive?

_56_. THIS is not productive.

And pretty soon I'm not counting much of anything because I'm not seeing clearly through the tears welled up in my eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. We both know this.

I was supposed to finally get together with Ron -- not only that, but be ecstatically happy. "_First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage _"

Of course war slowed all of that down. Some might say we reached the "love" stage. They don't know anything about it, though.

It's not that I don't care for Ron. I could never say I don't. For the longest time he was my world.

And Harry? Well, he just ...wasn't. He always had his own thing going on and just seemed a bit unreachable at times.

He's not unreachable anymore though. As much as I might want him to be.

He brings me out of my reverie, softly questioning, "Hey, are you crying?"

I sniffle, "No."

I feel him shift his weight on the bed and I know he's facing me now.

"Love," he pleads, "look at me."

"I can't," I say in a quivering voice, shutting my eyes tightly.

His arms maneuver their way around my torso, pulling me toward him. Once I've come to rest, my back against his chest, his arms stay in place, holding onto me as if I'm the last bit of life he's clinging on to.

He kisses my neck below my ear before whispering, "I'm so sorry."

Apologies don't help anything. They never solve problems. I know he knows this.

"Someday," he continues softly, "this'll all be over. And you and I can move on."

I don't want to say it, but I can't help it, "You mean apart, Harry."

He sighs, and his breath brushes across my cheek, "Maybe. I don't know. It's so hard to see beyond what's right in front of me."

"You mean the war?"

"No," he says plaintively, "You."

"Don't be ridiculous," I chastise him "This? You and me? It isn't the important thing that's taking place here."

He buries his face in my neck, "It is to me."

"Harry," I say as I roll over to finally face him, and he moves his head away from my body, "it can't be. The world is depending on you."

He scowls, "To hell with the world."

My eyes widen, "You don't mean that."

"If it means I get you," he says sincerely, "then I do."

I purse my lips, "It doesn't work that way."

"You don't know that for sure," he reminds me.

I blink at him.

"We could just disappear," he says, and then elaborates, "Gone like we were never here. And come what may to the rest of the world."

And he's serious. That's what scares me the most.

"I didn't want it to mean this much," I admit.

He gives me a small smile, "And you think I did?"

"We were stupid," I state, only to correct myself, "_Are_ stupid."

And he kisses my forehead, stating, "I'm never letting you go again."

I close my eyes again, reminding him, "Until the morning. Ron--"

"The days are just temporary. They _have _to be."

I shake my head slightly.

This isn't the life we were meant to live.

But it's all we've got now.

Things might be easier if Ron weren't around. If Ron wasn't in love with me. If I didn't love Ron. If Harry didn't see Ron as a brother.

_If_.

If I hadn't gone to Harry that fateful night when Ron and I had that horrible fight the third day after we left Godric's Hollow.

If he hadn't pulled me into his arms and told me how he and Ginny had broken up because he couldn't bear to put her in danger.

If I hadn't pulled away from him and looked up into his striking green eyes which were usually hidden behind the frames of his glasses. And if I hadn't kissed him in that very moment -- if he hadn't kissed me back.

If Ron _had _come into the room at that very moment and interrupted us.

If we had stopped with merely kissing.

...If we hadn't lost our virginity to each other.

If we weren't so deeply linked together.

If we didn't need each other for our own survival...

I move my head toward him, resting my forehead on his. And I finally give in, "I'll always love you."

He smiles slightly, "I know."

I stare into those eyes of his and continue, "No. I'm serious. No matter what happens. I'm going to do what I have to do, but just know that at the end of the day it will always be you."

"Hermione," he wants to know, "what are you planning on doing?"

"What I have to do," I repeat plainly.

A panic-stricken look spreads across his face within a matter of moments, "What is that supposed to mean?"

But I can't answer him. Not tonight. Probably not ever.

Instead I press my lips against his, and he responds immediately, coaxing my mouth open with his tongue.

And I wish I could freeze the world. Keep this moment just as it is.

I know there won't be any going back. And the future isn't looking too bright for either of us.

It's hard to have the world available to you at one moment, but have it taken away an instant later.

I was going to be someone important in the wizarding world, you know. I was going to show everyone a muggle-born can do everything a pure-blood can do, but _better_.

And I know all Harry ever wanted was to be normal. Even this interaction between the two of us is just a branch off of that. He just wants to live his life the way he sees fit.

In a normal world we wouldn't have known each other. In our ideal lives, we wouldn't have been friends.

But we didn't get our ideal worlds and I know we never will.

We make do with what we have.

And what we don't have we take.

And I let him take me.

Every night.

Maybe someday it'll be for all of eternity.

But that's yet to be seen.

Despite what he wants to believe, there are things much bigger than the two of us here. We're insignificantly at the mercy of the universe -- something I never wanted to believe before, but now can no longer deny. It's been ages since I've had any control over my own life.

He pulls away, heavy lidded eyes watching me for a sign of permission.

Maybe he doesn't take me exactly. Maybe it's just me offering myself to him.

Why him?

Well, that's a question I'll probably never be able to answer. There really doesn't seem to be a specific answer.

We just are what we are. No more, no less.

Yet no better than any other couple fucking in a dark alleyway.

We're breaking our best friend's heart, and he doesn't even know it. He won't find out, either, if we have anything to say about it.

Things weren't supposed to be this way.

But after an odd twenty separate occurrences, it's safe to say this is definitely how things _are_.

Twenty-two.

Two seventeen year olds. Two beds. One hot summer night, blurred with the dozens of other nights that were just the same.

One set of unused sheets. Two sets of clothes discarded to the battered floor. One unsuspecting victim, sleeping soundly in the next room.

Is it love?

A better question yet: Does it really matter at the end of the day? Or, rather, in the morning?

**

* * *

**

**A/N**: Agh! My life isn't worth living if I can't write some angst every now and then! Just be happy it didn't show up in WWOB, okay? Oh, and don't hate me for the Harry/Hermione ship. I just had to! Maybe it'll be out of my system now? Cross your fingers for me. :)


	2. What You Wanted

**Disclaimer:** HP and all its relatedness? Yeah, totally not mine. Major bummer, I know. But I lack the ambition to do it any kind of justice anyway.

**A/N**: Well, I didn't really plan on continuing this fic... but whaddaya know?

* * *

I'm standing beside one of the many identical tables covered with a soft blue cloth, fingering the pale white roses when a hand touches my arm.

I turn around to face a man. The man (the myth, the legend... you get the idea) with those bright green eyes and that unruly black hair. His green eyes look flatter today than I've ever seen them, though. And it kills me to know I'm the one responsible for the change.

He searches my face before asking, "You're really going through with this, aren't you?"

I avoid his gaze, "Harry, you out of all people should understand obligation. You do what you have to do."

His voice breaks as he begins, "You don't have to do this. It's a choice."

Still avoiding looking at him, I whisper, "A choice that was never mine to make."

"Let me make it for you then."

And then I meet his eyes, questioning, "Would you really do that to him? Honestly?"

Frustrated, he sighs, "The war is over, Hermione. It's _fucking over_. And I'm still standing. I made it out alive. You know I didn't expect this."

I reply honestly, "Neither did I. Not really."

His grip on my arm tightens as he says, "We can't leave what we had behind along with the war."

And I can just feel the tears welling up in my eyes, "I already told you, it's not my choice to make!"

"That is such a load of bull, and you know it. If you--if you don't want ...me. Then just say it. Don't use any of this as an excuse."

I steal a glance at Ron. He's standing on the other side of the room, his ginger hair a striking contrast with his black dress robes. He gives me an wide smile, winking before turning back to his conversation with the twins.

I look back to Harry, I can practically feel his frustration in the air. It couldn't be because his frustration is within me as well.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to collect myself before speaking again, "Why today? Of all days?"

"You know why. You've been avoiding me."

"I have not--" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"You turned off your mobile, you put a ward on your floo, you somehow bribed Hedwig to return all my letters. That is classified as a very active avoidance."

And of course he's right.

I swallow hard, "You have to know that it's for the best this way."

He begins to get angry, "Better? _Better_? How is this going to be better? You can't just avoid me Hermione, you and I both know I'll end up the godfather of your children. I mean, I won't be able to turn Ron down."

"Harry--" I break in, "I would never... I would never put you in that kind of situation."

"And I'm just supposed to stand next to Ron in the front of that fucking church, while he marries the only girl I've ever loved."

I look towards the ground, whispering, "You never _let _yourself love anyone else, Harry."

"Run away with me."

"I--I can't. You know that. I just... can't."

His hand cups my chin and brings my face up to look at him, stating, "You _won't_."

And I pull my chin out of his grasp, because it would look far too suspicious to anyone watching. And I've long since promised myself they can never know. But while his touch is gone, I don't move my eyes from his.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "Don't interrupt the ceremony today. Promise me you won't."

"You should know that promises don't really mean anything," he scoffs.

I wonder when he became this cynical person. But then I realize it was after I ended us.

And back when I'd dream of my wedding day, I really never thought I'd be having this sort of conversation with the best man while wearing my fairytale gown. I really didn't. But then again, what little girl does, right?

"Please, Harry. Promise," I plead.

"What about what you're going to be promising today, Hermione? What about that?"

"Harry--"

"No, let me speak. 'love, honor, cherish, obey' ...not to mention stay faithful. Do you really think you can be that person?"

"I have to be."

"No. That's the thing, you don't have to fucking be that person!"

"You just don't understand what it's like -- to be so completely torn..."

"Love, I wrote the book on being torn."

"Well, then why can't you understand this? Why can't you accept this situation for what it is?"

"Because it isn't right. I'm surprised no one can feel it in the air, the distinct sensation that something's decidedly off about this entire thing."

"People believe what they want to, you know that."

"I do. And I know what you want to believe differs from what you really do believe."

"And what do I really believe?"

"That you'll never be a tenth as happy with Ron as you could be with me."

"That's not--"

"Don't even bother denying it. I can sense it. You're not the person that Ron fell in love with all those years ago. You're someone that you can't even recognize anymore. And I'm the only person that can. Or maybe the only person who's willing to."

And with a slightly sinking feeling, I realize he's right.

And nothing really is as it should be.

The tables are too blue; the flower arrangements, too perfect; my dress, too flowing and silky.

And Harry shouldn't be standing in front of me wearing the simple boutonniere of the best man.

All the little things continue to hit me systematically, my world not crashing down around me haphazardly, but one little thing at a time.

And he's right. He's right, he's right, he's right.

But it's too late.

Isn't it?

Ron is finally leaving the twins' sides, moving towards me and Harry, with that grin that's been a permanent fixture on his face for the past few weeks still unfalteringly in place.

I glance at Harry and I can tell that he knows I've seen the truth.

"Please, don't say anything," I begin, watching Harry's eyes harden against me, then adding, "just yet. Please."

He gives me a ghost of a nod just as Ron reaches us.

The sunlight from the early afternoon sky casts this sort of halo around his head (I kid you not), and I can't help but think of him as some innocent guy who just got caught up in the mix of something he truly doesn't deserve. He's far from perfect, but that doesn't change the fact he's innocent. And doesn't change the fact that I don't deserve the love he has for me -- I probably never have.

He pulls me into a hug from behind, ducking his head down to my ear to whisper, "Just a few more hours, can you believe it? It's gonna be so great. You should see Mum, this is the happiest I've seen her since the war ended."

I turn to him and do my best to smile into those blue eyes of his.

He winks at me again and turns his attention to Harry, using a stage whisper, "I think someone's getting a little nervous here. And that someone's not me."

He pulls me a little closer and I distinctly feel his heart beating within his chest. I whisper a silent prayer that he can't feel mine beating out of my chest.

Harry still hasn't taken his eyes off of me, and doesn't even bother to respond to Ron's comment. I watch Ron carefully and see him frown slightly at Harry, a small smile still playing on his lips.

Then Molly yells from across the courtyard, "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

Ron's eyes widen slightly and he gives me a small peck on the cheek, promising to 'be back in a bit.'

Harry finally blinks, "You're not going through with this."

I swallow before replying, "Look at all these people! All of their happiness lies within my hands, doing this could crush them."

Harry scoffs, "They all made it through a goddamn war, Hermione! A cancelled wedding is not going to bring their worlds crashing in around them."

I sigh, "You're just saying that. You have no idea what this could do to them."

He counters, "Do you have any idea what not doing this could do to you? I mean, look at you, you're already slipping away. I can feel it, you know."

I lock eyes with him once again, stating, "Well, maybe I'm already gone then."

And then I turn to move away.

He calls out to me, "No, Hermione, don't do this! You can't do this!"

I pause for a moment, actually considering turning back around and running off into the sunset with him. But in the end, I don't turn around. Instead I move towards the room that I dressed in earlier that afternoon. I'll have to fix my eye makeup before the ceremony, after all.

* * *

**A/N**: Thus ends this chapter! Will I continue it? Or will I leave it at this, 'cause I'm a horrible person? It's really quite up in the air at this point. I just needed to write some angsty angst (as one does)!

Annd for any of you that might be wondering where the hell the next installment of WWOB, it's coming. Still coming. I blame the fact I don't have a desk. Yes, really.

And to the dear Astrianna Glaze: I'm glad you like my angst. It's not very popular. :( ;) ...and OMG, there WILL be a 'Hogwarts: A New Beginning...' epilogue. Promise.


End file.
